


Devoid

by bornfromanxietea



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Original Characters - Freeform, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26958979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bornfromanxietea/pseuds/bornfromanxietea
Summary: Two young children find friendship in a young boy, who to their surprise, seems to be devoid of all emotion. After a traumatic event, they are separated for several years. The three must learn to cope with their past together when they finally reunite.
Relationships: Holland Torres/Samuel Gardener





	1. Holly's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is an original story I wrote for fun. I always have inspiration behind my stories and this time, it was from the television show Dexter. It's a good watch, I highly recommend.
> 
> Trigger Warning: This story deals with graphic depictions of child abuse and violence.
> 
> This is only my second time ever writing a story, so I hope you enjoy!

**_Holly’s POV_ **

I’ve always tried to be positive. I may not have had a lot of money, but I was happy. I lived in the outskirts of the slums with my mom and my twin brother, Callux. My mom worked as a prostitute back then, but we didn’t really know any better. She would hardly be home, but she would always put food on the table. She was a good mom. I was lucky to have a good parent. Some people didn’t turn out to be so lucky.

Me and my brother would always run around the slums aimlessly, looking for something to do. We were bored little kids who wanted to cause some trouble to get the attention that we lacked at home. Conditionally, our circumstances made us really close siblings. All we really had was each other.

“Over the log and under the bridge,” Callux says as he maneuvers himself around the trash heaps in the alley. We made a playground of anything and absolutely everything.

“The trolls are under there, be careful Cal,” I say with worry in my voice.

“I’m the strongest of them all! The trolls will have to watch out for me,” he exclaims with a proud look on his face, extending his invisible sword to the sky.

I follow my brother through the alleyway, carefully replicating his footsteps. He spun and stabbed the air, protecting me from the fabrications of our imagination. We laughed and played, making joyful noise in the quiet, run down neighborhoods. 

“Look! Treasure,” Callux mischievously said as he steadily approached a small tool shed. “This cave will have all the loot we troll hunters could ask for.”

“Hopefully there’s stuffed animals,” I say crossing my arms over my chest, as if to snuggle with an imaginary stuffed bear.

“No, a racecar would be cooler! I’ll bust it open with my powers!” 

“Three, two, one… blast it open Cal!” I yell.

Callux kicks open the door of the shed and steps into the darkness. I follow him, and take a moment to adjust my eyes. 

“What do you see-” I stop my words mid-sentence. My brother puts a hand in front of me, blocking my path. 

“Holly. Don’t move,” he says with caution in his voice.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as I push past him. I start to run toward the back of the shed.

“Holland, stop!”

I stop running as soon as I see a small figure curled up on the floor. The body is covered in dirt. I look closer and see bruises all over. It looks like a boy about our age. 

“Oh my God, is he dead?” I whisper to my brother.

“I don’t know, but you should stay back Holly.”

I ignore my brother and kneel down in front of the boy. I study his features. He has almost shoulder length curly blonde hair, and long eyelashes. He has gashes on his cheeks and cuts on his knuckles. His white t-shirt had a small bit of blood bleeding through.

I reached out my hand toward his back and gently shook him. He didn’t budge.

“Hello?” I call out softly to him. “Wake up.”

The boy still shows no sign of movement. He must be really tired. I poke his cheek hard with my pointer finger. His eyebrow twitches. I fall backwards on my heels in shock.

“Hey, can you hear me?” I say as he starts to regain consciousness. 

He opens his eyes. They are a bright blue color. The look in his eyes instantly turns to fear. Startled, he props himself up and crawls backwards further into the darkness of the shed. Callux inches closer behind me.

“State your name, foul beast!” Callux yells at the boy.

He just sat staring at us, eyes devoid of all emotion. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. 

“What are you doing here?” I ask him softly. He doesn’t respond, he only switches his gaze from my brother to me. “Are you hungry?” I inquire. He hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly, without changing his expression. “Okay, you can follow us. We have food at home.”

“Holly, I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t even  _ know _ him,” my brother tells me seriously. “Mom’s not even home.”

I look at the boy. “My name is Holland. That’s my brother, Callux,” I then look towards my brother. “And good, we don’t want Mom to know about him anyway,” I say dismissively. “Let’s go,” I hold out my hand to the boy, but he doesn’t take it. Instead, he stands up and stays still, likely waiting for our instructions.

“Follow us,” my brother says, as he leads the way back to our house.

The walk was not very far, but the silence made it seem like an eternity. I occasionally would look back at the boy, but he kept his gaze glued to the concrete. 

We took a left towards the fence at Ozwald’s Horror House. No one ever dares step foot on his land. My brother says if you do, the monsters with sharp fangs will tear you apart, arms first, and saving the head for last. Just then, two big dogs lept and slammed themselves into the fence, barking maniacally. I gasp and jump towards my brother. He takes my hand and we walk in the opposite direction. I look back at the boy. He doesn’t seem phased at all by the scary monsters. 

We finally made it back to our house. Callux opens the back door and we all file inside. The boy is just standing there awkwardly in the kitchen by the door. 

“Do you want to sit down?” I ask, pointing to the kitchen chair. He walks towards the chair and I pull it out for him. He takes a seat and doesn’t say a word. He stares at the wall in front of him, expressionless. 

“I’ll make you a sandwich. Do you like peanut butter?” Callux asks him. He shrugs his shoulders. Does he not know what it tastes like?

“Have you ever had a PB&J before?” I ask him. He shakes his head. I smile a little. “Well you’re in for a treat. It’s the best sandwich in the world! Especially when Cal makes them.”

Callux finishes making the sandwich and places it in front of the boy. His fingers hadn’t even left the plate before the boy shoved the sandwich in his mouth and devoured it within a few seconds. My brother and I stand in silence as he swallows his last bite, and just sits staring at us. 

“Um, so where do you live?” Callux asks him. He doesn’t respond. “Do you even talk? Geez,” my brother says exasperated.

The boy still doesn’t answer him. He can only switch his focus from the wall to our faces. We sit quietly for a few more moments until I finally break the silence.

“Me and my brother are eight. How old are you?”

The boy continues to sit without saying a word. About to give up, I start to put my head down in defeat. However, from the corner of my eye I see him move his arms. I look up and the boy is holding up all ten of his fingers. I smiled and let out a breath that I didn’t even know I had been holding. 

“Ten? Hey we are almost the same age!” I say excitedly. I look at my brother and he looks dumbfounded, but equally as excited as I am. “Do you like playing games?” I ask curiously.

Before he can answer, I hear a shuffling of feet coming from the front door. I shoot my brother a look, and he runs towards the boy and drags him out of the chair. 

“You have to get out of here,” Callux says to him frantically. The boy doesn’t say anything, he just nods his head. We push him towards the back door of our house just as the lock to the front door clicks. 

“Holly, you take him to the alley. I’ll deal with Mom,” he whispers to me.

“Got it,” I nod and head out the back door with the boy. 

I start to run towards the alley, and the boy follows behind. We made it to the intersection and I stopped to tell him the situation. 

“I’m sorry you can’t stay, but my mom won’t like it if you are here. You understand right?”

He looked at me with no emotion on his face. This boy is very hard to read. I nod to him and turn to leave.

“Sam,” I hear from behind me. I turn back towards him, and he looks at me with his eyes empty.

“Nice to meet you Sam,” I say back to him. I turn, and sprint back to my house.

~

I sneak through the back door quietly, and start to tiptoe towards the stairs. I only made it up one step, when I hear my mother call my name from the living room.

“Holland, where were you?”

“Um, I was looking for my stuffed rabbit. I think I left him out in the slums today.”

“So where is he then?”

I look down at my empty hands, then back at my mother.

“And what did I tell you two about going to the slums? It’s dangerous there,” my mother presses.

“I know, Mom, but she was with me,” my brother tries. “I protected her with-”

“Enough of your games, Callux. It’s only your imagination. I already told you two that you need to grow up if you’re going to survive here,” my mother says as she throws her purse on the couch. “Come here.”

My brother and I walk towards my mother. She stands with her brow furrowed for a few seconds, then all the anger leaves her face. She embraces us in a deep hug.

“I love you both more than anything. Be careful okay,” she says. “Now hurry upstairs, while I get dinner ready.” 

I turn and follow Callux up the stairs. My mother is strict, but we know that she is only like this to protect us. She is one of the good parents. My brother and I got lucky. We head to our room and close the door behind us.

“That was way too close Holly! I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” Callux says tensely.

“It’s okay, we got him out before she noticed.”

“But what about that lie? You almost got our asses caught!”

“Hey! Watch your language, Cal. And I know, but there was no other choice. She knew we were probably in the slums anyway.”

“You’re right,” he said, and let out a sigh.

“His name is Sam,” I tell my brother.

“What?” he asks excitedly. “How do you know?”

“He told me,” I say proudly. 

“No way. What else did he say?”

I look down at the ground. “Nothing,” I offer back, sadly.

“Well that’s okay, a name is a good start,” my brother says to cheer me up. “I’m surprised he even said anything. You must have made him trust you somehow.”

“I hope so,” I say to him, before getting up to wash up for dinner.

Me and Callux head downstairs and start to set the table. I grab the placemats that my brother and I made in kindergarten, with the silly pictures of our family on them. We both grab our seats at the dinner table. My mom rinses her hands and starts to prepare our plates. 

In front of us was steamed corn, hand-mashed potatoes, and a slice of bread. It wasn’t the most fancy dinner, but it kept us from starving. We said a prayer together and dug in.

“So how are you enjoying your summer off, little ones?” my mother asks us.

“School sucks, so I’m glad I get to sleep in everyday,” Callux replies.

“I hope you wake up early enough to do those chores, Callux,” my mother replies with a smirk. 

“Yes.. of course, Mom,” he says while taking a sip of water to hide his laughter.

“And how about you, Holland?” She turns the question to me.

“I mean, I miss the playground. There’s nothing fun to do out here,” I say honestly.

“I know, sweetie. But you always have your brother to keep you company. That’s all you really need,” my mother replies.

I smile back at her, then look to my twin. “I know.”

After dinner, we got ready for bed and turned out the lights. I couldn’t see my brother but I looked in his direction.

“Do you think we’ll see him tomorrow?” I ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I don’t know.”

“I hope he isn’t cold tonight. And what if he doesn’t have a home to go back to. Or worse. What if he can’t go home?”

My brother stayed silent. “Just don’t think about that stuff, Holly. He’ll be fine,” he says with obvious sleepiness filling his voice.

I frowned at his response. I was too worried about Sam. How could Callux just fall asleep now?

As if reading my thoughts, my brother says, “We can look for him tomorrow if you want.”

“Thank you,” I say back to him. I close my eyes and let sleep take over me.

~


	2. Sam's POV

**_Sam’s POV_ **

I can’t tell what time it is. The moon is almost directly above me. I look at my feet. They are bare, and completely blistered from the running I had done that day. I am exhausted.

I can’t feel anything. The last time I remember feeling some kind of emotion was when my mother left me. I don’t remember what she looked like, I just remember being sad. Now, I don’t even know what being sad feels like. All I know, is emptiness.

I try to feel things sometimes. I hurt myself occasionally to see if something will happen inside me, anything at all. But it doesn’t work. It never does.

I never really had friends before. At least, I don’t remember them. It was always hard to trust people. I’ve been betrayed so many times. By my mother, then my father, and then  _ him _ .

I don’t want to go back there. But I don’t have anywhere else to go.

I walk towards the front door and try to open it. It’s locked. I make my way towards the back door. I test my luck. Also locked. I didn’t expect anything different. I head towards the window that leads to the bathroom and push. It creaks open just enough for me to slip through.

I hit the floor with a thud. I stand in front of the cracked mirror and look at the distorted image of myself. I look like I shouldn’t even be alive, like a human punching bag. I stare at my reflection for minutes, searching for a feeling in my dead eyes. Sensing nothing, I walk away. 

I creak open the bathroom door, holding my breath, waiting for any sign of life in the old excuse of a house. I hear the shallow breathing of my uncle, passed out on the couch of the living room, a beer still clutched in his hand. I tiptoe past him, and head towards my room. Luckily he doesn’t stir, and I close the door behind me.

My room is bare. Nothing is in it but two small, torn blankets and a broken coffee table. I sit myself down on the blankets and lay my head against the wall. I stare at the wall across from me and lose myself in thought.

I thought about how confused I was, waking up to two strangers in front of me. A boy and a girl about my age were in my face, asking me a whole bunch of useless questions. I wasn’t scared of them. I just knew I couldn’t trust them. I couldn’t trust anyone.

I don’t know how they found me, or why they took me to their house. I didn’t want to be found. I didn’t mind if I would have died there. I couldn’t stand living with my uncle anymore. But I figured, the other alternative was to see what those two had to offer. And if it was better than death, then I would give life another chance. 

They may have given me food, but I still don’t trust them. I don’t trust anyone anymore. 

I thought it was best not to tell them anything. I figured that the less they know about me, the better. And it’s not like I will see them again. So I refused to answer their questions. Who were they to think they could pry on my life, anyway? 

But when it was finally time to return back to my living hell, and she was turning to leave, I decided to give her my name. I really didn’t think about it that much. It just kind of happened. It doesn’t mean that I trust her, I just didn’t think she and the other kid were all that bad.

~ 

I woke up to the sound of my bedroom door hitting the wall violently. My uncle barged into the room with a terrible look on his face. I could tell that he was angry at me, but I didn’t know what for. It really didn’t matter.

“What the hell are you looking at?” my uncle slurs at me. I could tell he was still wasted from yesterday’s drinking. For him not to be hungover means he must’ve drank this morning too. I’m surprised he isn’t dead from alcohol poisoning at this point.

“Oh, so you don’t have anything to say?” he screams at me. “You ungrateful piece of shit! I do everything for you, and you don’t show me any thanks.” He moves closer to me and starts to unbuckle his pants.

I’m not afraid of my uncle. I stopped feeling fear a long time ago. I just know that I want him to disappear. 

My uncle wraps his belt around the palm of his hand a few times to get a firm grip. He uses his other hand to latch onto my hair and drag me into the hallway. He throws me against the wall and kicks my side.

I can barely feel any pain. I am mostly numb. I already know what to do. I sit on my knees with my hands against the wall. My uncle curses a few times before lashing me repeatedly on my back and rear. This goes on for a while, until I can hear blood trickling onto the floor from my body. 

My ears are ringing. I go limp and collapse onto the floor.

~

I wake up with a massive headache. It’s probably from the loss of blood. I use the wall to support me as I stand up and limp towards the bathroom. I look in the mirror to check out the damage. 

My shirt is soaked to ruins with my own blood and there are too many holes for it to be salvaged. He’ll probably hit me for that later, since clothes aren’t cheap. I remove my shirt and throw it into the trash bin under the sink. I rotate my body and observe the new gashes in my back. The new ones seem to cover the scars from my last belt beating. I figure I should try and clean myself up a little. 

I limp towards the bathtub and turn the nozzle. No water comes out. I guess my uncle hasn’t paid the water bill. Once again, I will probably be blamed. Since he has to feed me, he can’t pay for the utilities. 

I head back to my room and find a new shirt to put on. It just gets dirtied from the dried blood on my body anyway, but it’s better than nothing. 

I walk down the hallway towards the kitchen. I check the time on the oven. It’s a little after 1:30. I guess I should leave and look for food before he comes back. 

I walk down the street towards the center of the slums. There are many beggars who gather here, hoping for generous souls to donate to their causes. I find a place in between them. 

I sit with my knees to my chest and my head down. I borrowed my uncle’s cap, and set it up in front of me. Most of the beggars get pissed at me because apparently, I am young and cute, so I take up most of the daily traffic. I take my usual nap, and wait until the day ends to see my earnings.

My nap is cut short when I hear someone say my name.

“Hey, Sam,” a familiar voice calls.

I open my eyes and see a smiling girl in front of me, with her brother one step behind.

I look away from them to the cap and see only two single dollar bills, a stick of gum, and a small slice of bread. 

I gather up my earnings and stand up, facing the twins.

“Is this what you do everyday?” the boy asks me.

I nod my head. 

“Do you want to hangout today?” the girl asks me, sincerely.

I stare at her for a moment, then shrug my shoulders.

“Okay, follow us! I’m the leader,” the boy says.

I follow the two, lagging behind a little. I keep just enough distance to scope them out. I don’t know why they came here today, or how they found me. Were they looking for me?

They seem to be in their own world. Saying things that don’t make sense. It’s like they’re speaking a language that I don’t understand, and making strange movements with their arms.

I try to remember their names. I think the girl said their names were Holland and Callux. I further avoid any conversation, just to be sure.

The pair lead me through a back alley, and we end up at a dirt area with some large rocks and a wooden crate. I don’t know what we are doing here.

“Here we are,” Holland says.

I look around and look back at her blankly. I really don’t understand what is going on.

“This is our land, Wabisabi!” Holland exclaims.

“Wa-sa-bi,” I speak slowly.

Both of them look at each other and laugh. I can’t help but feel lost.

“No, Wabisabi. It’s a Japanese word that means imperfect but still beautiful. Or, that’s what my mom said at least,” Callux offers.

I nod my head. If this dirt patch is supposed to be beautiful, they need to get their eyes checked.

“Here, I am the king,” Callux states proudly. He stands on the wooden crate and puts his nose to the air. “I rule over all of the kingdom and make sure that all my people are in order.”

“And I’m the princess,” Holland adds, casually. “I am the nice one who gives to the needy, since our  _ king  _ is selfish and only helps the rich.”

“Hey! I could behead you for that!” Callux yells at his sister.

She laughs in response and looks at me. “You could be the prince. And you can help me with the community.”

“More like the beast,” Callux wheezes.

“Shut up, Cal,” Holland retorts. “Or you can be the horseman! You deliver all of our resources and goods.” 

I stare at her blankly. What are they talking about? We are just kids.

“You’d be really important,” she offers.

I think for a moment. I’ve never been important before. I wonder what that feels like. 

I nod my head.

“Great!” Callux exclaims. “Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

We go on like this for hours. I learned that doing things like this is called ‘using your imagination’. I’ve never pretended to be something I’m not before. I didn’t really understand it, but I tried to follow instructions as best as I could. I would go to Holland whenever she would call, and I would receive ‘payment’ from Callux for coming. It was a lot of work, almost like a real job. 

Without even realizing it, the sun had already set. Callux and Holland said that they had to go home. But tomorrow, I could come to their house because their mom wouldn’t be home. I didn’t want to go to their house. I hoped that they would stop finding me. I was already a burden on my uncle, and I didn’t want to be a nuisance to anyone else. Especially those two. I don’t know what ‘fun’ feels like, but I do know that they are the only people who I actually don’t mind being around. I don’t want to change that.

~


	3. Holly's POV

**_Holly’s POV_ **

**2 years later**

I wake up to Callux hopping up and down on my bed. I look at the clock and see it’s about 7 in the morning. It’s so early, I can barely keep my eyes open. 

“Wake up sleeping beauty, it’s our birthday!” Callux yells excitedly.

I laugh, “Happy birthday, big brother!” We both get ready and head downstairs for breakfast. 

Mom is already up in the kitchen. It smells like she is making pancakes, and a hint of something sweet. I take a whiff. “Mmm, strawberries!” I say excitedly.

We round the corner to the kitchen table. A whole array of breakfast foods is laid out for us. Chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and strawberry smoothies. I don’t know how Mom had the money for all this.

“Happy tenth birthday, my little munchkins,” my mother says while running over towards us. She sloppily kisses my brother, then myself, on the forehead. “To my oldest, my baby boy, I have a special gift for you.” She hands him a small object wrapped in newspaper. He tears it open excitedly.

“Woah! A watch?? Thanks Mom!” Callux screams with joy as he puts it on his wrist. The watch isn’t anything fancy, but you can tell that she saved up a lot of money for this day.

“You’re growing up, and you have to keep track of time when you’re practicing for your races,” she says with a cheeky grin. “You’re gonna leave them all in the dust.” 

Callux definitely needs that watch, since he joined our school’s track club. He is pretty fast already, but that watch will be great motivation to get him faster.

“And to my princess,” my mother starts. She hands me a tiny box also wrapped in newspaper, but with a small pink bow on top. “I hope you like it,” she says with a small smile.

I open the box and see a beautiful butterfly ring with changing colors in the center. 

“Mom, it’s beautiful,” I say with tears in my eyes.

“It’s a mood ring, because I know how sassy you are getting, and I thought it would be good to keep you in check!” she says with a laugh.

We both hug our mother simultaneously and she squeezes us as hard as she can. “Now eat breakfast quickly or you’re gonna be late for school! And bring some to Samuel, too. I hope he’s coming over for dinner today,” she yells from the other room as she throws her apron to the floor. “I love you both so, so much!” she says as she closes the front door and heads off to work. 

Mom still works the same job as two years ago, but she decided to get another job at a children’s clinic about two hours from here. That means she’s not around even more than before, but she really wants to do better for us. And it looks like it’s working, from what she was able to show us today. But even with all these material things, I’m grateful enough just to have my family.

My brother and I finish breakfast, and we pack a sack with some of our leftovers for Sam to eat. We grab our bags and head out the door. 

~ 

We walk over to the slums where we usually pick up Sam. We wait for over ten minutes, yet he still hasn’t shown up. I start to get worried and look to my brother.

“Cal, I don’t think Sam is coming. Do you think something happened to him?”

“I don’t know, Holly. He should be here soon,” he says to calm me down.

“But at this rate, we’re gonna be late. What if his uncle-” I cut myself off. “We have to go look for him.” I turn and start walking deeper into the slums.

Callux runs after me and tries to get me to slow down. Sam never showed us where he lives. We’ve known him for just over two years now, and I still feel like he’s shutting us out.

“Holly, wait,” my brother says. “I think it’s down this way.”

I follow my brother past a series of run down houses that we haven’t visited before. This seems like the only place where we don’t know who lives here. We quietly scope out each of the windows to investigate which house might be Sam’s.

After a while, I spot a flag hanging from the house at the end, supporting one of the underground businesses that run in the slums. That one has to be it.

I beckon Callux to come over and we both look through the window. We don’t immediately notice anything that points to this being Sam’s house. The living room looks pretty normal, aside from the plethora of empty alcohol bottles scattered on the floor and the stains on the couch. 

I was just about to give up, when we heard yelling coming from the other side of the house. 

We run towards the sounds and strain our ears to try and make out what the voice is saying. I put my ear to the back door and slow my breathing. 

“You absolute piece of shit! You ruined my good mug!” we hear an angry male voice. “Huh, ‘Best Friends’? What a joke! There’s no way you actually have anyone to give this to.”

All of a sudden, the sound of glass breaking fills the air. Silence is followed.

“You don’t know that,” a calm voice responds.

“What did you just say to me?”

“You don’t know that I don’t have any friends. You don’t know anything about me.”

“How dare you talk back to me!” I can hear the sound of something hard being hit, like someone got punched.

“Cal, I think it’s Sam. We have to help him,” I whisper to my brother.

“Okay, I’ll try and open the door,” he whispers back, in a panic.

Callux turns the knob and the door fails to open. It’s locked.

“Maybe we can go through this window!” Callux says as he pushes it open carefully, as to not make any noise.

He climbs through and grabs my hand from the other side to help me through. It seems like we landed in the bathroom. We crawl towards the door, and listen for more information.

“You’re gonna pay for this,” the man says with vengeance. 

Twice more, I can hear the sound of fists contacting skin.

Callux shakes his head and pushes the bathroom door open. We rush into the hallway, and to our horror we see an extremely beaten Sam pinned down by a grown man with his fists raised. As if in slow motion, I see his knuckles strike Sam’s face, and the look in his eyes as his head falls towards us. Empty.

“Get off him!” Callux yells as he runs towards Sam. The man gets up and stands over both Sam and Callux, who is hovering over him, helping him up.

I couldn’t even move, I was so shocked by what I had seen.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in. A pair of rats. What, are these your ‘friends’, Samuel?” he slurs at us.

“You guys shouldn’t have come here,” Sam says while looking directly at us, the same blank look on his face.

“I-It was time for school, and you didn’t come to our meeting spot,” I stammer.

“Why don’t I teach  _ all _ of you a lesson now?” Sam’s uncle offers, evilly.

“No!” Sam yells abruptly. “I- I'll handle it,” he says firmly to his uncle.

Sam grabs Callux’s wrist and walks towards me, grabbing my hand as well, as he leads us towards the exit of his house. Once we make it outside, he lets go and crosses his arms.

Sam doesn’t say anything, he just looks at us for a while. I feel a single tear run down my face. I look at Callux, who looks angry.

“I never wanted you to see that,” Sam says casually.

“Why do you let him do that to you?!” Callux yells intensely. “Hasn’t this been going on for years? Don’t you get sick of it?”

“Yes,” Sam says with no emotion. I can’t sense what he’s feeling. It doesn’t even seem like this bothers him. 

Sam takes a breath and opens his mouth as if to speak, then changes his mind and looks at the concrete. He stays silent.

I look him over. He’s wearing our school uniform, but he’s missing a sock and his shirt collar has a stain of blood on it. I can’t look at him anymore, so I look to the floor.

“I need you to stop worrying about me. And don’t come to my house anymore,” Sam says evenly.

“How do you expect us not to worry about you, when you end up with bruises and blood stains on your uniform every day?” I reply with a shaky voice.

He looks me in the eyes and shakes his head. “Just go to school, I’ll see you later.” He turns to walk back towards his house. Before he closes the door, he turns back and says just two words.

“Happy birthday.”

~

Sam never ended up coming to school with us. We trusted that he was okay, and that he was able to handle everything with his uncle. 

Sam never used to speak to us very much. He would usually communicate with nods, or shaking his head. But over the last two years, he’s really changed. From an outsider’s perspective, he’s still quiet and broody. But ever since he met my brother and I, he’s really grown. 

It started when we finally told our mom about Sam. We introduced him to her, and she practically fell in love with the idea of raising another child. She basically treats him like one of her own children. She even enrolled him in the same school as us. That’s why it was so important to help him talk more. Mom helped too. She would make him ask for things around the house if he needed them, rather than waiting for us to ask him. Even though Mom knows Sam is kinda, weird, she still really cares about him. I know it hurts her that he can’t live with us. I think she knows what his uncle does to him.

On the walk back home my brother and I passed by Mr. Oswald’s house. It’s funny to think about how scary we thought the house was. I chuckle to myself a little at how childish we were. After meeting Sam, we’ve really grown up. We had to, in order to take care of business. The dogs ran up to the fence and panted at us. We walk over and nudge their noses. They’re actually kind of cute.

We get home and toss our bags on the floor. The house is quiet; it must mean that Mom isn’t back yet. She should be home in about an hour or so, in time to start making dinner. I grab a bottle of orange juice from out of the fridge and join my brother in front of the coffee table. He pulls out a deck of cards.

“Woah, where did you score those?” I ask playfully.

“One of my friends gave ‘em to me for our birthday,” he replies with a smile. He divides the pile in two and attempts to shuffle them. However, he fails miserably.

We both laugh and set up a game of Go-Fish. I don’t know how much time has passed before we hear a knock at the door. 

My brother opens the door and lets in our friend. Sam walks over to where we were sitting and makes a spot for himself. He watches us as we get back to our game. I notice he has a plastic bag sitting in his lap. 

“What’s that, Sammy?” I ask, as I place down a pair of 7’s.

“A gift,” he says calmly.

“For us?” Callux inquires, drawing from the pile in the center of the table.

Sam nods his head, with an even gaze.

I move over, closer to Sam, and patiently wait for him to offer the gift. He looks to his lap and grabs the bag, then places it in my hands. I open it and see the remains of a crushed piece of glass, what looks to be a mug. I carefully take it out and see the words ‘Best Friends’ written in red marker across the front.

“Did you make this, Sam?” I ask, surprised.

He nods his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Callux says softly, as if to cheer him up. “It’s the thought that counts.” He moves to place a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam looks to where Callux’s hand rests, and doesn’t move.

He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out three pieces of string, each a different color. He fiddles with them in his hands before handing one to my brother.

“Oh. This is for me, too?” Callux asks. He wraps the string around his wrist and adjusts the knot.

Sam hands me a string too and helps me tie it around my wrist.

“Red for the king. Blue for the princess,” Sam says indifferently. “And white for the horseman,” he says as he adjusts his own bracelet.

I look between all of our wrists in awe. Sam made us friendship bracelets. For once in my life, I actually felt relieved. That maybe, just maybe, Sam really felt something after all.

~


	4. Sam's POV

**_Sam’s POV_ **

I don’t know why I brought them here. I thought it would be okay this time. Holly was begging to see my room. Cal wanted to help me make a paper airplane. I didn’t want to disappoint them. My friends.

I snuck them in through my usual spot, the bathroom window. I knew my uncle would be out on this day. He had a job in another city, and I had a little over a day by myself. I thought this day would be my only opportunity.

I gave them a quick tour of my house, although it was small so there wasn’t much to see. Plus, they had already been here once before. 

I took them to my bedroom and closed the door behind us. My room still looked the same, with the addition of a new desk and a small mattress. The two wandered around my room, taking in their surroundings. There wasn’t much to be excited about. I sat down on the floor and waited for them to join me. 

“I like your room, Sammy,” Holly said to me, with a strain in her voice. I knew she was lying. I stayed quiet.

“What do you do in here for fun?” Cal asked.

I thought for a moment.  _ Fun?  _ I don’t have an answer, so I shrug my shoulders.

“Well let’s play a game then,” Holly suggests. “Hide-and-go-seek! That’s fun.”

“You stay here and count to 100. Me and Holly will find a place to hide. Then you come look for us!” Callux explains.

They both get up and leave me alone in my room. Confused, I start to follow their instructions. 

One. Two. Three. 

I don’t know what fun is, but I don’t think this is it.

Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Fifty.

I’m tired of counting. I can’t wait for the ‘fun part’.

Ninety-nine. One-hundred.

I stand up from my spot. So now I go look for them? Easy enough. I know all the hiding spots in this house. I’ve needed to use them more times than I can count.

I peek out of my bedroom door into the hallway. I listen for the sound of footsteps. Nothing. I guess one hundred seconds was enough time. 

I tiptoe through the hallway to the vent in the wall. I crack it open and stick my head inside. Nothing. I guess this was too good of a hiding spot. Even my uncle never checked here. Maybe I should start simpler. 

I head to the bathroom and look behind the shower curtain. Nothing. Maybe that was too simple.

I continue searching through the back of the house for a few minutes, in cupboards, closets, and the attic. There’s no sign from either of the duo. 

I scratch my head. Surely they didn’t go in there. I should check just to make sure. I walk towards my uncle’s bedroom door slowly. I think about what would happen if I get caught there. If Holly and Cal get caught in there. Something in my heart hurts for a split second. I grab my chest. I quicken my pace.

All of a sudden I find myself sprinting towards my uncle’s bedroom door and I burst through it, half expecting to find the twins wrapped up in some kind of rope and my uncle standing over them. But his room was empty, and my heart felt normal again. This has never happened before.

I close my uncle’s door quietly and walk back through the hallway. I guess the last place to check is the kitchen. Maybe they’re hiding under the sink.

I walk absentmindedly towards the kitchen and crane my neck for any sight of them. I round the corner and immediately stop in my tracks. 

On the floor in front of me is a small pool of blood leaking from the skull of a motionless Callux. I scan the scene from behind and see a writhing Holland, held tightly by my uncles grip on the hair on her head. My uncle stands with a bloody alcohol bottle in his other hand. As he turns his head to take a swig, I notice the plastered smile on his face. My mind empties.

I didn’t notice my feet taking me to the kitchen counter, next to Callux’s body. I couldn’t recognize the sound of the knife being removed from the wooden block. I didn’t feel the crimson liquid oozing from the small of my uncle’s back onto my small hands. 

My uncle falls to the floor in a bloody heap on top of Holly. I watch as she shrieks and struggles to crawl from under his dead weight. 

My body goes limp, and I fall to my knees. The knife, however, remains gripped in my hand tightly. 

I don’t remember much after that.

I remember the sound of sirens. I remember seeing her, clutching onto her brother’s shoulders, his head lying in her lap. Was he alive? Was this my fault?

I remember being in the backseat of a car. And being sat down at a metal table, a small cup of water placed next to me. Where were my friends? Where is my uncle?

I remember strange men asking me a whole bunch of questions. Questions that I didn’t know the answers to. Even if I did, I couldn’t form any words. I didn’t know where I was, or why I was taken there.

~

They took me into a small room, with an old television and a few couches. I stared at the door waiting for something to happen.

I glance at the clock. How long have I been here? There are no windows in this room. It’s cold.

I hear the sound of a lock being turned, and the door starts to creak open slowly. I pull my legs into my chest and clench my fists.

I see a woman come in, alone. She looks familiar. It’s Holly and Callux’s mother. What is she doing here?

She approaches me slowly, but she doesn’t look afraid, like the large men from earlier did. She takes a seat across from me on the other couch. I see her search my face for something, I don’t know what she wants me to do. 

She inhales, then exhales, before greeting me. “Hello, Samuel. It’s good to see you again. Do you know where you are?” 

I stare at her, then look around the room. I look back at her, and shake my head.

I notice her eyes drifting downwards on my body. I follow their path and look down. I see my hands, stained a shade of red. I slowly look back up and meet her gaze.

“You’re at the police station, about half an hour from home,” she explains. “Do you remember anything from today?”

I close my eyes and think for a second. What do I remember? I remember running around the slums with my friends. Then I remember we were thirsty, so we went to my house to get something to drink. I remember playing a game. 

“Hide-and-seek,” I respond after much deliberation. I don’t know exactly what answer she is looking for, but I trust her enough to tell her everything I do remember. 

“I see,” she says, choosing her next words carefully. “Do you remember anything after that? Try your best, Samuel.”

I close my eyes once again, and try to picture our game. I remember I was alone, and I couldn’t find them. I remember searching in the cabinets, and the bathroom, and my uncle’s room.

A sharp pain shoots to my left temple, and I clutch my head in my hands. Why did I go in my uncle’s room? I wasn’t supposed to. I strain my memory to try and think of any logical reason. 

A distorted image of blood flashes to my memory. It travels across the floor and pools at my feet. It shoots another wave of pain to my temple, and I groan at the sensation.

Defeated, I open my eyes and look at my friends’ mother. I shake my head.

“Okay, don’t worry about it, Samuel. Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll come talk to you a little later okay?” She says to me softly. 

I don’t have any real memory of my mother. But I can feel the maternal instinct radiating from the woman in front of me. 

She gets up to leave, and she gives me a small smile before exiting the little room. I hear the door lock behind her. 

I don’t understand why I’m here, I just know that I’m really tired. I take one more look at the clock before laying down on the couch and closing my eyes.

~

I wake up to the sound of the door opening once again. Through the blur, I see the figure of a woman approaching me. She sits down on the couch next to me, and places a hand on top of my head. She strokes my hair a few times, as I start to regain awareness. 

It’s Callux and Holly’s mom again. I wonder what she came back for. I start to sit up, and notice a mug full of a brown liquid in it. It smells sweet.

“Good morning, Samuel,” she says to me sweetly. I study her expression and try to read the situation. “Here, I brought you hot chocolate.”

She hands me the mug. It feels warm in my hands. I take a sip, and note the warmth traveling around in my insides.

“Do you remember anything else?” she questions me.

I shake my head.

“Okay,” she says under her breath, before closing her eyes and sighing heavily. I study her face. She looks troubled. “I have to tell you something really important, Samuel.”

She opens her eyes and gently places a hand on my face. I feel her thumb rub against my cheek.

“Your uncle has passed away,” she says with an even tone, as if she was being forced to deliver this information.

I don’t know how to react to what she has told me. I don’t feel anything. I just stare at her.

“And you are being taken to a juvenile detention center,” her voice breaks in between her words, “for the murder of your uncle.”

With these words, I stand up abruptly. Her hand falls from my face. Murder? I’m going to be taken away? From Holly, and Callux? No.

“No,” I say. I don’t believe that. How could she let them take me away?

“Samuel, you should sit down.”

“No.”

“Samuel, I will explain to you what happened,” she says with a serious tone. “Have a seat.”

I reluctantly sit back down on the couch next to her, and stare at the wall past her head.

“You took my children to your home yesterday, and there was an accident. Callux was injured, and lost a lot of blood. Holland was in trouble too. Your uncle was going to hurt them."

I furrowed my brows. I knew he was capable of some messed up stuff, but I never thought he would actually hurt my friends.

“You wanted to help them, so you took a knife from the kitchen, and stabbed your uncle. He died from blood loss at the scene.” she says to me, calmly. “You will be going away for a while, because what you did was not okay.”

I turn my gaze from the wall to her eyes. I can see tears welling up in them.

“But you protected my babies. And I am  _ so  _ proud of you, Samuel,” she adds, struggling to get out the words. The tears begin to stream down her face, and she wraps both arms around me. 

I sit in her embrace, looking over her shoulder. I  _ saved  _ them? I don’t remember. I raise my hands behind her back and inspect my bloodstained hands. I guess I really did. But does that mean I’m a murderer? I don’t want to go away.

I hesitate before putting my arms on her back and I squeeze. I return her hug and feel her sobs deepen into my shoulder. I wait for her to regain her composure, and she puts both her hands onto my face. 

“I promise, I will do everything I can to help you when you come back. I owe you my life,” she says, while not breaking eye contact. I perceive that she is immensely serious. I nod my head, with full confidence.

She moves her hands down to mine, and holds them gingerly. She utters one final goodbye before turning and heading out the door. 

Not a moment later, the door reopens. Two more large men come through and stand in the doorway. They are different men this time. One of them pulls out a pair of handcuffs from behind his back. I raise my hands above my head, as they approach me.

“I’m sorry, kid,” the other policeman offers.

~


	5. Holly's POV

**_Holly’s POV_ **

**6 years later**

I click my pen, over and over, trying to soothe my nerves. I keep glancing around the room, trying to find a single point of focus. It’s the instructions I’ve been given to try and keep the panic attacks from kicking in. It always happens when I am reminded of that day. Of course when you’re in therapy, like assholes, they just trigger you on purpose.

“I can still feel him, on top of me,” I say through gritted teeth. This whole thing is annoying. Bringing up the past doesn’t make me feel any better. “And I can smell his breath. He reeked of alcohol.”

My therapist looked from me to his notebook, writing down every detail. 

Feeling annoyed, I sneer, “Haven’t you already heard this before? What are you writing down anyway? You gonna write a book or something?” 

“It’s important to note every detail, since you might feel different another day. You never know,” he offers back calmly. He is used to dealing with my shit. He’s been my therapist for the past four years. All my other therapists couldn’t handle me, so they quit. Andrew has honestly been my rock. “And no, I won’t write a book about your life. Unless you give me permission,” he says with a smirk.

“Shut up, Andrew. I was joking,” I retort. I hate his lame jokes. He’s such a dad.

“That’s Mr. Andrew, to you,” he says with a smile. I can’t help but roll my eyes. He is a tall man, with round glasses, almost like Harry Potter. He wears a fancy watch, and as much as I hate to admit, he has impeccable fashion taste. “Continue where you left off.”

I sigh and go back to clicking my pen. The story is the same every time. I never get very far when I try to remember the little details. I close my eyes and try to think.

“Well, I remember after it was over. I saw the look on his face. He was absolutely devoid of emotion,” I offer.

“Who? Mr. Gardener?” he replies, mistaking my new memory to be about Sam’s uncle.

“No,” I thought for a second. “Sam.”

With this, Andrew sits up a little in his chair. He starts to write some more things down in his book. 

“And how did that make you feel? To see Sam’s face?”

“I don’t know, I never really thought about it until now.” 

He looks at me intently. “Well, you have time to think about it now.”

I ponder about that moment. I remember the glazed look he had over his eyes. And how tight his grip was on the knife. It was almost like it wasn’t actually Sam. 

“I felt scared, I guess,” I say to Andrew after thinking about it for a little. 

“And why do you think you were scared of Sam?” he asks, while scribbling on the paper.

“Uh, I don’t know. Sam was always kinda weird. But I was never scared of him before.” This scenario genuinely confused me. “Sam had a hard time understanding people, and the way they felt. But he was always really nice to me and my brother,” I offer afterwards.

“Do you think you were scared that he might hurt you, too?” Andrew asks delicately.

I shake my head immediately. “No, Sam would never hurt us. He was our friend,” I spit back. Andrew nods his head and writes some more in his book. “Well, maybe if he didn’t know the difference.”

Andrew puts his pen down and leans over his desk, closing more of the distance between us. He crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap.

“Holland, have you ever heard of a dissociative disorder?” he asks me seriously.

“I mean, yeah. I learned about it in psychology class. It’s like multiple personalities, right?” I respond casually.

“Well that’s just one branch, called dissociative identity disorder. However, dissociation occurs in several other instances. I believe that Sam has a combination of a few dissociative disorders."

I laugh nervously, “What do you mean, doc? Sam isn’t sick. He was just protecting us. His friends.” 

Andrew doesn’t waver. I start to twitch my legs subconsciously. I feel anxious. He keeps level eye contact while continuing to further explain. 

“From what you’ve explained, as well as from the files I’ve read on Sam, he has trouble connecting emotionally with others. He also has tendencies to space out, and suffers from memory loss. In particular, the memories about this day.” 

It’s hard to focus on Andrew’s words. My chest starts to tighten, and I fight to try and control my breathing. 

“I believe that your friend, Sam, suffers from Derealization disorder and Dissociative Amnesia disorder. And from that day on, Sam also falls under the category of Depersonalization disorder. You believe that Sam wasn’t acting like himself, correct?” he asks.

I struggle to find my voice. “Y-yes.”

“This seems to be the most logical explanation. I want you to know that it’s okay to feel afraid of Sam. It’s not your fault, and it’s not his either. You will have to learn to accept him for who he is. And maybe, someday, you can help coach him through it.” 

I nod my head. How could I not know this about Sam? I’ve known him half of my life, yet I still feel like I don’t know anything about him. 

“I just want you to understand these things, so that when you finally see him again, you won’t feel like complete strangers,” Andrew says softly. It’s a little too late for that. I already feel like we’ve grown too far apart for our relationship to even be salvageable. And he was my best friend.

“Let’s end here for today, I know you have a lot to think about,” he says, and offers me a slight smile. He stands and inches closer to me. I hold out my hand, for our usual goodbye handshake. But this time, he takes my hand and pulls me into a warm hug. 

At first, I tense up, but I soon relax into his embrace. Andrew may be annoying, but he’s just doing his job. And I don’t know where I’d be without him. I’d never tell him this, or he’d never let me live it down, but he’s really like a father figure in my life. 

“Good luck, the big day is coming up isn’t it?” he says as we part from each other.

“How can I forget?” I reply with a small smile. 

Sam is being released from juvie at the end of this week. He will be eighteen then. I don’t know what it will be like to see him again. To see how much he’s changed, or hasn’t changed. A small shiver travels up my spine as I think about it. About that look on his face. I shake my head and head out of the office. I shouldn’t think about this now. It’s giving me a headache.

~

I walk outside and wait for my ride to pull up. I can’t help but reminisce about how simple our lives were before everything happened. We never would have known that something like this would happen to us.

I spot the old Toyota Sprinter Trueno pull up to the curb. The car is ugly, but it serves its purpose. My mom saved up enough money to buy it for us, for our sixteenth birthday. I pull on the latch and hop in. 

“Hey, sis. How was therapy today?” my brother greets me.

“Same as always, just a little more annoying,” I respond sarcastically.

My brother laughs. “You hungry?” 

We drive to our favorite burger spot, down the road. We found it shortly after I started therapy with Andrew. It became our go to spot to hang out, even if we didn’t order anything. We would force Mom to take us when she had time off of work. She had been staying home a lot more since after the accident.

We get inside and take a seat at our booth, which practically has our names on it. We’ve sat here every week for about four years. 

The thin, pretty waitress sautées over to our table. “Heya, what can I get for y’all?”

“The usual,” I reply. She writes down my typical order in her notepad.

“What do you recommend?” my brother playfully asks. The waitress rolls her eyes and pulls out a menu from her apron. She sits down next to Callux and leans towards him as she shows him the options. 

I practically barf at their exchange. They’ve been making goo-goo eyes at each other for years now, since before she even worked here.

When she finally walks away, I kick my twin from under the table. 

“Just ask her out already, you’re being so obvious.”

“I can’t just do that! I gotta stay cool, it’ll all work out on its own.”

I roll my eyes and rest my head in my hands. I can’t help but smile at my dumb brother’s lack of game. 

When we finally get our food, we eat in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. I don’t really talk about that day with my brother. He doesn’t really remember very much because he was passed out. But he knows how much it scarred me. And I know how much he blames himself for not being able to protect me. But I know it’s not his fault. I would never put this on him.

“I learned something new about Sam today,” I say under my breath, trying not to make a big deal about it.

His eyes widen, and he almost chokes on his soda. “Holly, that’s huge. Are you sure you want to talk about this?”

I nod my head. “It’s fine. Andrew said that Sam has some kind of dissociative disorder. You know, where he’s not himself and stuff.”

Callux looks at me trivially, then nods in agreement. “Hmm, that would make sense. Considering the dude sucks at having a conversation.” He lets out a small chuckle.

“No,” I offer, “It’s more serious than that. He said that it has something to do with his memory, and why he doesn’t really show emotion.” 

My brother listens intently as I continue.

“I couldn’t remember it before, but that day, I saw his face after he did it. I was so scared, Cal.”

He reaches his hand across the table and places it on top of mine. 

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that alone,” he replies sadly. “I hate myself for it every day.”

“Don’t. I will never blame you for this,” I say firmly. “It just feels like the puzzle pieces are all coming together now. Yet, I’m still as confused as ever,” I say with a sigh.

He sits back in his seat, moving his arms behind his head, and looks up at the ceiling. “Do you think you’re ready to see him?” 

I hesitate for a few seconds before answering honestly.

“Not really,” I say with a shaky voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you.”

“Thanks,” I reply with a smile. 

~


	6. Sam's POV

**_Sam’s POV_ **

It’s my birthday. But it’s not like these things mean anything to me. It’s just one more year around the sun. However, today is pretty different from the rest. I’m getting released today.

I had already packed my bags the night before. I thought it would help me sleep better knowing that there wasn’t much left for me to do, but not knowing what was going to happen to me kept me awake. I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and headed to the clubhouse to say my final goodbye.

I opened the door to the clubhouse and scanned the foyer. There was no sign of anyone here. I walked to the back of the room to the main hall and peeked inside. My youth director, Josh, was sitting in a chair with a book delicately held in his hands. 

Not wanting to startle him, I knocked on the wooden door frame and invited myself in.

Josh looked up at me and a bright smile came across his face. “Sammy, come on in.” 

Josh was a convicted felon, just like me, but he was offered a job as a youth director at this juvenile detention center rather than continuing the rest of his sentence in prison. It was almost like a promotion for good behavior. Josh always said that this decision saved him. He is twenty four years old, and is bigger than me. But his personality is laid back, and he is a very welcoming person. My first year in juvie was his first year as a youth director. It was rough, but he really shaped me into who I am today.

He clasped his hands onto my shoulders and gave me a good once over. “You look good. Strong,” he says nonchalantly. “Tell me, what did you learn?” 

“Life is too short to argue with stupid people,” I respond coolly.

Josh bursts into a fit of laughter. He slaps my shoulder. “I’m glad you’ve inherited my sense of humor!” That must have been a joke, because he knows that I am not capable of laughter.

Josh taught me a lot of things about the world. And about myself. He taught me that sometimes, I need to fake it. I know that lying is bad, but Josh said that faking is different than lying. It will help to not hurt people’s feelings.

“I just wanted to say goodbye,” I tell him. 

“Of course,” he replies with a sad look on his face. “I’m gonna miss you, kiddo.” 

Josh is one of the only people I can trust. He taught me that it’s important to trust some people in your life, or else you’re better off dead. 

I give him the fakest smile that I can. He leads me back out towards the front door of the clubhouse. 

“Don’t forget what I taught you!”

“I won’t.”

“And be careful,” he adds on.

“I will.”

He thinks for a second before looking me directly in the eyes.

“And happy birthday,” he says with a genuine smile.

I nod and walk off towards the release gates.

~

The sun is bright on my face. I have to squint to see the three figures running up towards the gate. I look to my right at the officer who gives me a nod and motions for the gate to be opened. The three stand back and watch as I walk out.

The first arms that lock around my neck are those of a woman. Holly and Callux’s mother. She is warm. And she is crying.

“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart,” she says through her tears. She kisses both my cheeks and looks me up and down. “Heavens, you’ve gotten so tall! And look how handsome you are!” She pinches my cheeks, but I offer her a smile. 

“Thank you,” I reply. “I’ve been working out.” 

At this, she laughs and more tears stream down her face.

She steps aside and beckons her children to come over. But the two in front of me don’t look like kids anymore.

I first notice Callux. He’s about a head shorter than me now, and he grew out his buzz cut. I assume they both are sixteen now. He looks about the age of a normal teenager. If it’s not obvious enough by the choice of sports shoes.

He walks towards me and holds out his hand. I take it and firmly shake it. We do this for a few seconds before he brings me into a hug. 

“I’ve missed you, man,” he says to me quietly.

“You too,” I offer back.

We pull away and he wipes his nose casually. He moves towards his mother on the side of me. I look over to Holly, who is standing looking at the concrete with her arms folded over her chest. 

She looks the most different, with long brown hair and a flowery dress on. It’s just casual enough to make it seem like she didn’t try to dress up. But it doesn’t work, since I’ve never seen her wear a dress before. She was always following in her brother’s footsteps, so it seems kind of out of character for her. Then again, I haven’t seen either of them in six years.

She is obviously averting my gaze. I walk towards her and stop a few inches away.

“How are you?” I ask her nicely.

She looks up to my eyes and immediately turns her head away. I can’t help but be confused at her behavior. This whole interaction is strange. 

I had just decided that I should walk away when I feel a pair of arms wrap tightly around my waist. She stands in front of me, holding on to me like she is going to fall. I wrap my arms around her, and give a slight squeeze. I wait for her to let go.

She wipes her eyes and looks up at me.

“Idiot,” she curses under her breath, then stalks over to the car that they came to get me in.

I don’t understand her reaction. Does she not want to see me? I wonder if my presence is making her uncomfortable. I wish I could understand, I’m really trying to.

I look to the twins’ mother and she gives me an embarrassed shrug. I smile softly and grab my bags from the ground. I follow Callux and his mother to the car and get in the front seat.

The drive back is quiet, aside from the occasional questions that their mother asks me. I do my best to answer them as honestly as I can. 

Once the car stops, I notice that I am unfamiliar with the area. The neighborhood is calm, and there are no run down houses in sight. I guess I didn’t notice the scenery change during the drive.

“In case you were wondering, we moved.” Callux says with a laugh. 

“I see,” I say in response. 

The family helps me unload my stuff from the trunk and we make our way inside.

“Mi casa es su casa!” Callux exclaims as soon as I enter. I can’t help but stare at him blankly. “I-It’s Spanish. Forget it,” he chuckles nervously. 

I take in the new environment. The house is fairly larger than the one I remember from back home. There is a large window letting in light into the living room, illuminating the entrance with a warm glow. It is almost comfortable.

“Callux will show you to your room. You can put your stuff down in there,” his mother offers.

“Follow me,” Callux says as he leads me up the stairs.

I look at the pictures lining the stairwell. It’s filled with images of Holly and Callux growing up. Middle school, freshman year, and sports pictures. They look happy. Once I get to the top, I notice one that seems vaguely familiar. It has me in it. I stop and stare at the photo, trying to trigger any sort of memory. 

“That’s from our tenth birthday,” Callux interrupts my thoughts. I look at him and notice his face shift. He looks almost sad.

“To be honest, that was one of our last good memories. Anyway, our room is over here,” he says indifferently as he walks towards the last room down the hall. I take one more look at the photo before following him into the room. I don’t know why I can’t remember.

“This will be your bed,” he says as he points to the bed on the left. “Anything in here, you can treat it as yours. You’re like my brother, so go ahead and use whatever you want.”

I look at him seriously. Is this really okay? I am like a stranger about to interrupt their lives. 

“Oh, except for my guitar. That baby is off limits!” he says with a laugh.

I offer a smile and throw my stuff onto the bed. We head back downstairs to talk to their mother about how living with me is going to work.

“Now, I know you think you’re a free man, but we still have rules in this house!” their mother exclaims. “I know you’re not in school, but I still expect you to be home at the same time as Holland and Callux after your community service.”

“Yes, Ms. Torres. I promise,” I say seriously.

“Please, call me Teresa.” 

I nod my head and give a small smile. I notice that people have to smile so much. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it. 

“And we eat dinner here, together. No exceptions.” She looks specifically at Holly, who rolls her eyes and nods her head reluctantly. I wonder where she goes.

“And lastly, chores. Samuel, you will be added to the ‘chore board’.”

“Basically we take turns doing stuff around the house, it’s not that bad,” Callux whispers. I nod my head in response.

“Great, that just about covers it!” Teresa says with a sigh. “Oh, and I want to talk to you privately for a minute.”

I nod and follow her into the other room.

“Now I spoke to your therapist from the facility and they told me some ways to help you cope with your condition. Are you familiar with it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she says and then softens her tone. “They told me that getting you involved with some type of life forms can help with bridging your emotional connections. They suggest starting a hobby like gardening, or getting a therapy dog.”

I think about living with a dirty animal who thrives only off of attention. That’s too much responsibility that I have no interest in.

“I’ll get a plant,” I offer.

“Sounds good to me,” she says with a smile. “You can start a garden in the backyard.” I nod my head. “They also say music therapy can help too.”

“They taught me how to play guitar,” I say casually.

“Oh really? That’s great, Samuel! Callux has a guitar, too. I’m sure he’d let you use it for your therapy. That boy lets it sit and rot in his room anyways,” she laughs.

I think about the threat made by Callux earlier. Deciding not to further involve Teresa, I pay it no mind. 

“Sure,” I respond.

We head back into the house, and Teresa makes a run to the store to buy groceries for dinner. I sit in the living room alone, until Callux and Holly join me. We haven’t really had a chance to talk by ourselves.

I look back and forth between the two of them, paying attention to how they keep shifting their positions uncomfortably. I must be making them feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” I say evenly. 

I can see a look of shock hit Callux’s face. “Sorry? For what? You didn’t do anything wrong, man.” He must have misunderstood my reason for apologizing.

Holly’s face turns a slight shade of pink. “Geez. Enough with the formalities, it’s annoying.”

Callux apologizes and gives a small laugh to ease some of the tension. 

“So, how are you doing?” he asks me sincerely.

“I’m fine,” I reply.

Holly doesn’t seem to have liked my answer. “No, idiot. Like how are feeling after all of this? Do you feel any, different?”

I consider her question for a moment. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t feel like I’ve changed, other than my physical appearance. As I am about to speak, I remember Josh’s words. I must fake it.

“I learned a lot of things,” I offer. They only look at me with confusion. I guess I should elaborate. “I went to a camp in juvie. My mentor taught me a lot.”

“Oh that’s cool, Sam. What kind of camp was it?” Callux asks enthusiastically.

I don’t really know how to respond to this question. I think for a few moments and respond, “Intervention.”

They nod their heads in response. I hope they stop asking questions. I don’t want them to find out how I really feel.

Just as I notice Holly open her mouth again with a quizzical look on her face, I blurt out, “I learned guitar.”

“Oh,” she reacts after I interrupt her thoughts. “Can I hear it?” 

I look to Callux. “I don’t think Cal would approve,” I say.

He looks from his sister back to me. “Oh, forget all that stuff I said earlier. Go ahead,” he laughs and rubs the back of his head sheepishly. 

I get up to grab the guitar from upstairs. As I walk past Callux, I place my hand on his head and move around his hair a little bit. That’s what Josh used to do to me. And Josh made me feel safe.

As I walk up the stairs, I can hear whispers coming from the living room. I’m too far away to make out what they’re saying. But I assume they are talking about me. I get to our room, grab the guitar, and jog down the stairs. 

When I round the corner, I see a new layout of the living room. The coffee table is pushed to the side, leaving an empty space in the center of the room. A couple throw blankets are laid out over the rug for extra cushion. Callux and Holly stand awkwardly in the center. I assume this is where they want me to play. 

I give them a smile, then sit down cross legged in front of them. They join me on the floor and wait patiently while I think of a song. 

As the chords for The Beatles,  _ For No One _ , fill my head, I no longer think. I just let my fingers do all the work for me. The room fills with the sound of my strumming. I scan the faces of my friends in front of me. They seem to be at peace. I can feel the warmth radiating from their bodies. Is this what it’s like to feel at home?

~

When it was time for bed, I turned out the lights in mine and Callux’s room. I heard the creak of him settling down in the bed across from me. We stayed quiet for quite a while.

Callux interrupted the silence. “You know my sister was worried about you, right?”

“I know,” I say easily.

“She’s really sensitive to this whole situation. And having you back isn’t helping,” he says softly. 

I think about his words. I don’t want to be a burden to her. I have to make sure that I don’t break my false front. If either of them get hurt by me again, I don’t know what I’ll do. 

“Just don’t hurt her, okay?” he says as he rolls over to face the wall. It was as if he read my mind. That was the last thing he said before drifting off to sleep. I listen to the steady pattern of his breathing. 

“I won’t,” I utter under my breath.

~


	7. Holly's POV

**_Holly’s POV_ **

**3 years later**

I finish pouring myself a cup of coffee and I grab a seat at the bar in our kitchen. There’s only about half an hour left before I have to be at work. But I can’t leave without my morning coffee.

My brother and I moved out of my mom’s place and into our own apartment. We’re nineteen now, so we figured it’s time to support ourselves. And if the world allows us, we want to be able to pay our mother back for all she’s done. 

I finish my coffee, write a note on the fridge for Cal, and head out the door.

I arrive at the flower shop, and get in position. Work goes by slowly, I can’t help but keep glancing at the clock. We don’t really get a lot of customers, so nothing exciting ever happens. 

Except for around 2 o’clock. 

I hear the bell ring that lets you know a customer has entered. Right on time. I look to the door and see a tall blonde walk in with a dazed look on his face. He slowly takes a lap around the store, stopping to admire every flower on the shelves. I never interrupt him. I wait patiently until he comes to the counter. As soon as he sees me, his face brightens. 

“Holly,” he says as he approaches me. “Are you well today?”

“Same as always, Sam,” I sigh, but with an honest smile. “Did you see any flowers you liked today?”

He stops for a moment, as if considering my question earnestly. He looks behind him at the array of flowers, and rescans them to double check his answer.

“The dahlias,” he says intently. 

I walk from behind the counter and head towards the dahlia section of the store. I look over the flowers, and take a mental note of the best one. I pluck the single dahlia from the bin, and take it back to the counter. 

I ring him up and hand him the flower. “This is a good choice,” I say to him. “It’s very beautiful. Why did you pick this one, Sam?” 

He once again takes time to think about my question. He looks at me, and holds out the flower in front of me. I take it back from his hands.

“It reminds me of you,” he says casually.

I can feel my cheeks getting hot. I turn away, and put the flower in the back of the store with my stuff. I hate when he does stuff like this. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying. It’s so annoying.

I walk back to the front of the store and see Sam still waiting by the counter.

“Is there anything else I can do for you today?”

“No,” he says while looking around the room. “I actually have to go somewhere today.”

“Oh really? Where are you going?” I ask him.

“My therapist says I should take a walk through a garden to see more flowers. And there might be some other animals there too,” he replies indifferently. He looks at me, then asks, “Would you like to go with me?”

I can practically feel my face getting red again. Is he asking me out? No, what am I thinking? He’s not being serious.

“Uh, my shift doesn’t end for another hour,” I say back to him dismissively. 

“I can come back for you,” he offers coolly.

I search his eyes, but he just stares at my face. I can’t get a read on him. I never could.

“Okay, I’d love to go,” I reply.

“Okay,” he says with a small smile. “I’ll be back in a little.” He turns and walks out of the store.

I let out a huff. I need to stop being so obvious. I’m such an idiot. But it’s hard when he keeps saying things like that. I can’t help but have these feelings for him, even though I know that he can never return them.

We’ve tried different types of therapy for Sam, but none of them seemed to work in developing his emotional connections with people. The only thing he actually seems to like is flowers. And even then, I can never know for sure. I can’t just ask him how he feels about me. Can I?

~

Sam picks me up from work, and I hop in the car. He turns on the radio and we listen to soft rock music. I wonder if he actually likes this kind of music. I never hear him listen to anything else.

I look over at him. He’s so focused on driving. He almost looks peaceful. I notice how the sun hits his blue eyes, and how it makes his hair glow with a golden hue. And how bits of freckles have started to form under his eyes and on the bridge of his nose during the summer. I notice the scar, just barely visible, above his right eyebrow. These are the kinds of things that I never really noticed before. But it puts me at ease to think about them.

When we arrive at the garden, he points in the direction of the path that he wants to take. I follow his lead, standing by his side.

He looks at the ground on both sides of us, admiring the foliage growing in the world. His face doesn’t change, but I imagine he is in awe at the sights around us. There are many types of plants here, ones that we don’t sell in the flower shop. Even I am a little interested in what the garden has to offer.

After we’ve walked for a little while. We stop at a bench under the shade of a tree. I sit down beside him, and he pulls out two strawberry lemonades from his bag. He hands one to me, and I feel how cool the glass is in my palms. 

We sit in silence, watching the nature in front of us. All of a sudden, something lands on my nose. I start to panic, thinking it’s a bee or something worse, but Sam grabs my hand.

“Don’t move,” he says quietly. “It’s a butterfly.”

He pulls out his cell phone slowly and captures a picture of the butterfly taking refuge on my face. He shows me the picture and smiles to himself. The butterfly is a bright orange color, with brown lines flowing through the pattern, almost like a tiger. I’ve never experienced something like this before. I feel giddy, imitating a small child. I laugh a little as he puts his phone back into his pocket.

“Here. I’ll take it off for you,” he says as he moves his index finger towards my nose. He transfers the butterfly onto his finger, and moves his hand away from my face. We both watch as the butterfly takes flight, back into the blue sky. 

Once it fades away, Sam looks back to me and gives me a smile. Our faces are just inches away. I am overwhelmed with his scent, a mixture of sweet mahogany and flowers. My heart beats faster. 

I lose all control and lean into him. As our lips touch, my body goes numb. Nothing has ever felt more right. It felt like the hole lying vacant in my heart has finally been filled, and out rises a new purpose in my life. The kiss felt passionate, but then it was over, just as soon as it started.

I feel a hand pressed on my cheek. My face is being gently pulled away. I open my eyes slowly and see Sam in front of me, his expression even. 

“Holly,” he starts. I feel dizzy. “I can’t.”

My vision goes blurry with my tears. My face flushes hot with embarrassment. I stand up fast and wipe my eyes. I don’t dare let any tears hit the ground. I walk briskly back towards the car. 

I feel the wind hitting my face, cooling it down as I hold back the waterworks. I don’t stop walking, even as Sam calls my name from behind me. My chest is tight, and it’s hard to breathe.

I feel a hand clasp onto my own and stop me in my tracks. Sam turns me around to face him and he stares at me.

“Holly,” he says meekly. “The car is that way.” He points in the opposite direction.

I cover my face with my hands. This is so embarrassing. I can’t do this anymore.

“Thanks,” I reply sheepishly as I turn to head to the exit, for real this time.

“Wait,” he stops me. “We should really talk.”

He leads me back towards the bench, and I take a seat next to him. He stares in front of him, presumably thinking of the right words to say.

“Holly, I really care about you. But,” he stops. “I just don’t feel what you are feeling for me.”

At this point, I can practically see the heavens all laughing at me. 

“I don’t understand, I thought that-” I cut myself off. “I’m sorry.” I must have been misreading all the signs. I’m so stupid.

He hesitates before speaking. “I guess it’s time I be completely honest with you.” I look at him grudgingly. “I know I seem like I’m better. But I still don’t really  _ feel  _ anything.”

I look back down at the ground. This is a conversation that I never wanted to hear.

“I know what I  _ should  _ be feeling, but I just can’t. I try every day, I really do. But it doesn’t work,” he says apologetically. “You, and your brother, and your mom are my family now. I understand that. I will do anything to protect you,” he says evenly. “But I feel the same connection with all of you that I do with the food that gets placed in front of me at dinner, or the clothes on my back.”

I stare at him, confused. He looks at me, noticing my changed expression. He sighs, and continues.

“What I’m saying is,” he explains, “I appreciate you more than other people. And I am so grateful that I have you all in my life. But I don’t think I can offer you the love that you deserve, Holly.” He grabs my hand and places it in his lap. I can’t look at him, so I look at my feet instead.

“Holly,” he starts. “I want you to be happy. You are worthy of someone that can return your love unconditionally.”

I shake my head. “But everyone else isn’t you,” I say hopelessly. I look in his eyes and search one last time for something, anything.

His eyes waver for just a fraction of a second, almost going unnoticed. Then he was right back to his usual cold stare. He moved his lips to my forehead and kissed it gingerly. 

“I’m sorry,” he says evenly. 

~

The drive back to my apartment was quiet. Not a sound could be heard other than the rumble of the engine. He pulls up to the front and parks the car. 

“Are we good?” he asks me.

“Yeah, we’re good.” He reaches over and gives me a hug, one that I know lacks any affection. I get out of the car and head to the front door. I hear the sound of the window rolling down. 

“I'm not giving up,” Sam calls out after me. I turn towards him.

“I know,” I say with a small smile. I close the door behind me and walk through my apartment to my bed.

I lay in silence and close my eyes. My thoughts run at a million miles a minute. The moment I saw Sam’s eyes flicker with even the smallest ounce of emotion replays in my head. This is the first time that he has shown any evidence of feeling. I was caught off guard, but I couldn’t help but feel a new fire burning passionately at the bottom of my stomach. 

Maybe Sam  _ can  _ really change. And I can be the one to help him. 

~


	8. Sam's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. If you've gotten this far, I just want to say thank you for reading. Enjoy!

**_Sam’s POV_ **

I couldn’t forget the look on Holly’s face when I let her down. I regret making her cry, but I couldn’t lie to her. Not after everything her and her family has done for me. 

I decided to try interpersonal therapy. It’s supposed to help me understand the relationships I have with others, and help me recognize negative patterns. So far, I can only see that my behaviors in social settings are only upsetting people. But I already knew that. 

My therapist suggested that I practice having conversations daily with someone that I trust. The first person that popped into my head, was Holly. 

I told my therapist about what happened between us at the garden. And I mentioned to her about how different our relationship has been since that day. She told me that it was perfectly fine that I told Holly the truth. And she encouraged me to continue to develop my relationship with Holly. She believes that pursuing a deeper connection with someone who I am already close to can help me understand her more, and lead to more positive interactions with others. 

I don’t know how to approach Holly with this, after my blatant rejection of her feelings, but I have to try. 

I knock on the door to Holly’s apartment and wait for an answer. I know that Cal is out today, so we would be able to talk alone for a little bit.

Holly opens the door with a greeting, “Oh hey, Sam.”

“Hi,” I respond. “Can I talk to you?”

She opens the door wider and invites me in. I grab a seat at the table and motion for her to do the same.

“I’ve been seeing a new therapist,” I explain. “She says that maybe you could help me work on my relationships with others. Starting with ours.” I watch as she shifts nervously in the chair. “I’m willing to give _ us _ another shot.”

“And how does that work?” she asks curiously.

“We keep doing the same thing we’ve been doing,” I clarify. “But I focus on addressing my negative reactions, and train my brain to treat them positively.” 

“So basically, we just get to spend more time together?” she replies shyly.

“In short, yes.”

“I’m really glad you came to me to help you,” she says after thinking for a moment. “Well, is there anything you want to do first?” she questions. 

I think for a minute. I’ve always wanted to try painting. It’s another activity my therapists told me could help with emotional expression. 

“I know a place,” I say.

~

The next weekend, I take Holly with me downtown to a small studio I researched online. They give painting classes that are apparently rated five stars. 

We walk into the studio and make a reservation. For some reason, they ask me to sign a consent form for Holly to join me, since I’m twenty-one. Slightly confused, I willingly agree.

We all get filed into a room with rows of canvases formed in a circle facing a small stage. We grab two seats in the back row and wait for the room to fill up.

“Are you excited?” Holly asks me. “I’ve never been painting in a place like this before.”

“Me neither,” I admit. “I just found it online.”

The lights in the room start to dim. A man wearing a long white robe walks up to the center of the stage. I assume he will be our painting instructor. I find it peculiar that he doesn’t have any painting supplies.

Without warning, the man removes his robe, revealing  _ everything _ to the audience of painters. Startled, I use my hand to cover Holly’s eyes. She shouldn’t see this.

“Oh my God,” Holly giggles. 

What did I sign us up for? 

“Sorry,” I apologize. “We can leave. I didn’t know it was going to be this kind of painting.”

Holly fights to remove my hand from shielding her eyes. “No, we came here to paint. So let’s paint,” she says with a smile as she holds up her brushes.

We paint as best as we can, glancing up occasionally at the naked model in front of us. Holly stops her work momentarily to admire my painting.

“Woah, you’re actually pretty good!” she tells me. 

“Thanks,” I respond. I’ve never really gotten complimented on anything before. I feel a warm feeling in my stomach from her words. 

“But you missed a spot here,” she says as she points to a white spot on my canvas with her brush. However, a splash of red paint flicks off the tip and lands directly onto the white spot, staining it red.

I look at Holly, and she has her mouth wide opened in shock. 

“I’m sorry, I-” she starts. But I cut her off mid sentence by using my own paintbrush to splatter her own painting.

“You did not!” she exclaims as she uses her brush to paint a stroke of red on my face. 

I return the favor and paint her nose yellow. We continue doing this to get even with each other. I feel something bubbling in the bottom of my stomach. What is this feeling?

“I’m going to have to ask you two to leave,” interrupts a lady with a suit and a clipboard.

I didn’t even realize that the corners of my mouth were turned upwards into a smile until she stopped our messy engagement, and my face fell back to its normal stature.

I grabbed Holly’s hand and dragged her behind me as I ran out of the studio, leaving our unfinished portraits behind. When we got to the car, Holly was laughing, clearly out of breath.

“What was that?” she asks me enthusiastically.

“We got in trouble,” I say seriously.

“No, you idiot. That smile on your face back there.” She puts both of her hands on my cheeks and uses her thumbs to push my mouth into a smile. “I’ve never seen you show so many teeth before. You looked genuinely happy.”

Happy? I thought about what she said. I do enjoy spending time with Holly. Is that sensitivity that I felt in my stomach what happiness feels like?

She removes her hands from my face and grabs my right hand. She interlaces it with hers. 

“Do you feel this?” she asks me. Her palms are warm, almost sweaty. She rubs her thumb over the top of my hand. “How does this make you feel?”

“Calm,” I respond honestly. I trust Holly. I feel safe with her, and I know that I want her to feel safe too.

“How about this?” she asks, as she takes a step closer to me and puts both hands on my waist. I notice my heart skip a beat. 

“Or this,” she says as she moves her hands up my chest, then around my neck. I feel some kind of energy arise in the bottom of my stomach.

“Warm,” I say back to her under my breath. I close my eyes and we stand together in the dark, only a single lamppost illuminating our vision. 

I like how it feels to be with Holly. Our relationship doesn’t feel forced. It’s almost natural to share space with her. I don’t know if I will ever be able to love her like she needs me to. But I like how things are now. And I’m willing to try.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Holly and Sam's story. I hope you enjoyed that spicy painting scene as much as I did. I had fun making this story, and I look forward to writing more in the future. ;)


End file.
